If Only You Knew
by BofBanoff
Summary: If only you knew... Two shot from Kate and Sawyer's PoV respectively.
1. Chapter 1

**If Only You Knew**

**Disclaimer:** If you recognise it, it's not mine.

Slight spoilers for WKD, however only very slight because I myself have not seen it! So the things I know are based from people from Lost-forum, so you only have yourselves to blame if it's not right :p.

A/N: I'm feeling all…guh, today, for some reason. This is probably going to be a two shot, one from each point of view. The first is from Kate's. I don't think I get her voice particularly well, it's more thoughts/feelings I was trying to capture. I'm not sure I'm incredibly happy with this but I'm just in that kind of mood…so I dunno. I'll leave you to judge it.

* * *

If only you knew.

I come so close to telling you sometimes. Edging closer and closer, like the reluctant yet prerequisite tide creeping up the beach, before pushing away, violently, suddenly thrusting you away from the eye of my storm. I watch you from the safety of my other self, the cold, collected one, the one who has no use for emotions. I fight a battle within myself; the conflict almost maddens me at times. You are a welcome relief, an ally against my past, a barrier.

I'm waiting for the inevitable tidal wave that will sweep you off your feet, drown you in my memories. There is no half way; it is all or nothing that you must know.

I can picture that look of confusion and pity and disgust on your face. Because as much as I think you're like me Sawyer, I can't imagine anyone being able to love me. Not after what I've done. I did what I had to do, but I can't purge myself. I can't rid myself of what has been engraved in my DNA, I can't rid myself of the path I took in trying to.

I can't tell you.

You know that I'm not all peaches and cream, you know that I've done bad things. You know I'm a murderer, you know I'm a thief, a liar. Yet you still chase me. I smell an obsession growing within you, burning slowly inside. Your charm, both crude and slick, seeps through my pores, buries under my skin and nests, waiting.

The anticipation coils inside of me. I wonder who will be the first to burst. I would guess and say you. I've become pretty good at holding things inside of me, waiting. I waited years to get revenge on Wayne, the anger that ignited inside of me burned slowly, intricately. It danced along my nerves and burrowed in my mind. I allowed it to ingrain itself so deeply in my psyche that it can never leave. It is entwined with the other threads that make up my life; fear, pain, ruthlessness, nothingness. The nothingness grew out of the anger, a faded blanket that sat upon my memories, cloaking the raw pain and fear. It allowed me to function. I rely on that, even now. I can stare out at the ocean for hours, and it will seem like minutes. I practised in my youth, when all I had to stare at was the wall and all I had to listen to was the sound of Wayne, the sound of him making _her_ scream, in agony, in ecstasy. Maybe that's why I'm so attracted to you. My mother's relationship with Wayne was a heady mix of pain and pleasure. She couldn't see the damage it was doing, not even to herself. She saw the physical signs, but she denied them mentally. There was always an excuse, there was always her blind love for him, that ruined my childhood, ruined my family, ruined me.

I'm afraid to love you because I don't want anyone else getting hurt.

But most of all I'm afraid to love you because I know that I would, deeply, irreversibly. I would depend on you; I cannot allow myself the luxury. I would make love to you; I cannot get _him_ out of mind.

I don't want love. I want peace.

But you drag my away from my wants, and entice me into my desires. The real Kate, the one buried away under layers of emotions and functionality. If only you knew how easy it would be to break me. My walls are weakening. I built them up so carefully, each brick construed in a certain way, allowing no gaps.

A fatal flaw in my design. For the best walls must have gaps, otherwise how will they withstand the wind? Sometimes, when I allow myself to daydream, I wonder if you could make the gaps in my walls. To knock them down would be catastrophic, to nestle in and make the walls your own, to defend against the harsh wind, that would be something the real Kate would embrace, however apprehensively.

It's hidden away under the fear of letting someone in, the need to be solitary, the scars left behind by my childhood. They etch coarse graffiti on my walls, walls I have scrubbed as hard as I dare, yet not a mark disintegrates. Sometimes I wonder if it ever will.

I could love you.

If only you knew.


	2. Chapter 2

**If Only You Knew**

**Disclaimer:** Can't remember if I put this in before, but, still don't own Lost. Le sigh.

A/N: Ok, here's Sawyer's PoV. You have no idea how long this took me! So hopefully it's ok, I'm still not sure I'm happy with it :p. Thanks to Marta for listening to me moan over MSN:D!

* * *

If only you knew.

I watch you, you know. In the harsh light of day, in the deceptive soft fire-glow at night. When you're moving; when you're still. I search that pretty face of yours; for what, I'm not sure. Most people? I can read them like billboards, great big walking advertisements for the sorry human condition. But you, you're different. You thrust a mirror up, deflecting my piercing eye into myself. It's painful, this sudden introspect, the shock of actually looking inside myself. I look so hard into you; I don't realise that you've shifted my gaze back into me; the rebound hits me so abruptly I inwardly stagger from the intensity. You make me question myself; sometimes I need it, most of the time it just heightens feelings of inadequacy.

I'm not good enough to love you.

But I do.

If only you knew.

It's not an all-encompassing, rose-tinted love. Neither of us will allow that, we are both far too aware of our own flaws, and the other's. But flaws are just excuses, reasons to hide away behind our eyes and watch the other, lurking beneath our own skins. I call you Freckles, you call me Sawyer. I know your real name; you have no idea of mine. You know my crime; I have no idea of yours. I know you killed a man, but there's _always_ more to a story that starts with "I never killed a man".

The darkness, it attracts me to you, I won't deny it. It seeps into the nooks and crannies of your slender body; the curve of your smile, the pupil of your eye, the shadow the sun casts on you, the freckles that should resemble innocence but instead serve a harsh reminder that that innocence has been lost, long ago.

It itches, holding back from you, preventing myself from dissecting your scars, comparing similarities and differences. Sometimes, it's enough just to know that I'm not the only ones hiding these, but mostly, it just spurs me on in my never relenting quest for you. You've taken over my mind, Freckles. It's a welcome distraction from the horrors of my past, yet anticipation and impatience snake through my veins as you stand aloof, seemingly unaware of my unconscious plea for release.

There are moments when the urge to be inside you, to drown inside your secrets and fears, to know that I'm not the only person in this world who just don't belong becomes so strong it terrifies me, because I have this overwhelming need for you and I don't know why. It's not rational, it's not part of a plan, and I can't help this downward spiral of mine into obsession.

I would have slept with half the girls on this island if I hadn't seen you, and that's no lie. It's something I would have been proud of, once, but your voice inside my head tells me I should be ashamed. You annoy me sometimes, you know that? I can't get you out of my mind, and it panics me. When did your voice act as my conscience anyway?

The cocky swagger that I put on is more than a front to impress you. It's to protect me. Because when you look at me I want to bare my soul to you. You see past the bullsht, but you can't quite see what's behind, not yet. There's one last barrier between us, and if that dam breaks, then God help us all Freckles, because I won't be holding back for long.

If only you knew.

I don't know why I allow you to get under my skin so much. I suppose it's because I have this need to get under yours, and this thing we have is a two-way street. It has to be. We're like two magnets, teetering on the border of a potent attraction, waiting for something to tip us over this delicate edge.

Together, we'd be explosive. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing worthwhile is. We'd banter, we'd bicker, we'd have fights that would make the stars tremble. We'd kiss like the world was ending and the sex would shake the earth. We'd keep our secrets, we'd argue about it. We'd push each other, but we'd understand. We could have that all-encompassing love, one day, if we allowed ourselves.

I want to immerse myself in guilt and self-hatred, but I want you more.

If only you knew.


End file.
